Something Like Perfect - S.C. Stephens Page 0,1

spilling a secret is telling someone you have one? Seal those lips.”

She giggled again, then shook her head. “Oh, I’m not spilling anything yet.”

“Then why did you tell me? Are you trying to drive me insane?”

“No, I’m just . . . I’m excited.” She immediately held a hand up, like she was blocking my questions. “But it’s too soon to say anything. I don’t want to jinx it. You’ll know soon, though, I promise.”

I studied her face for a moment. The big bright-blue eyes, almost carbon copies of mine. The commercial-worthy silky blonde hair, also similar to mine. We definitely had a familial resemblance, but Kylie had inherited Mom’s perky nose and perfect cheekbones, while I’d inherited Dad’s height—I had a good six inches on her. Curiosity was killing me, but my sister was an integral part of my life, closer than a best friend, so I respected her wishes.

“All right, fine, keep your secret. But if you don’t spill soon, I will hold you down and tickle your armpits until you tell me everything inside your head. All your secrets will be mine.”

Her mouth dropped open as she gaped at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yes, I would. Just you remember that.”

She smirked, then laughed, then nodded. “I’ll tell you everything soon, I swear. And like your schooling, it’s a good thing, Val. A great thing.”

Her eyes were sparkling so much I could practically see the heart bubbles floating in the air around her. Carefully wrapping my arm around her in a quick hug, I indicated where the other girls were waiting. “Enough sappy stuff. Let’s get our drink on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, laughing. Then she helped me carry the alcohol to our friends.

Two hours later, I was higher than a kite and feeling no pain. I’d definitely overdone the celebrating, but I had really needed the break. I hadn’t expected training for my dream career to be as intense and high pressure as it was. My teacher believed in realism, and his classroom was more like a battlefield than a kitchen. But he didn’t want to coddle us when he knew the real world would be vicious. He wanted to give us a taste so we could drop out now if we didn’t like it. I appreciated that. I’d rather know exactly what I was getting into than think I was getting something else and be caught off guard. After completing this school, I would be ready for anything. Bring it, world. I’m ready.

By the time we were done for the night, my head was twirling like a top. Steph patted my back the entire cab ride home. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay overnight with you? I really don’t mind.”

Withholding a groan as I sat with my head down between my legs, I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I just . . . need sleep.” And the world to stop spinning.

Steph still saw me into my apartment and tucked me into bed before leaving. That was just the sort of friend she was. It made me feel guilty. It was her birthday; I should be holding her hair back while she emptied her stomach, not the other way around.

When I woke up in the morning, I regretted every life decision I’d ever made. My head was throbbing, my stomach was roiling, and I was still wearing the same clothes I’d had on last night. Coffee. I needed coffee. But not the lame, watered-down version I made on my kitchen counter. No, I needed full-strength, no-messing-around, made-by-a-professional espresso. Good thing my favorite coffee bar was right around the corner from my apartment. Thank God for city living.

After clearing my stomach—three times—I changed my clothes, snatched my purse, grabbed my sunglasses, and made my way to the caffeine haven. The smell instantly soothed my churning stomach when I stepped inside. I was halfway to feeling better. One cup of joe, and I’d be nearly human again.

I felt like death as I waited for my turn. Why did getting coffee take so long? Pour, next. Pour, next. It seemed like it should take no time at all to get through the line. But then again . . . you couldn’t rush perfection, and these guys really did make the best coffee in the city.

At least I had something yummy to look at while I waited. The man in front of me had to be a full-time model. If he did anything other than promote underwear for Calvin